The Return of General Lockload
by BackForBreakfast
Summary: When Calhoun's strict, protocol-driven boss General Lockload is patched into Hero's Duty, he's not too keen on the blue-shirted handyman who's stolen her heart. Can Felix and Calhoun convince him that love can be found in the strangest of places? As you can probably guess, it's a silly little Hero's Cuties fic! Now COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Wreck-It Ralph_ or anything associated with it.**

**Author's Note: Hi everyone, and welcome to my second _Wreck-It Ralph_ fanfiction! :) I hope you enjoy it, and if you do I would love to hear your reviews - your words always encourage me to write more! I'm thinking this will be a two-chapter piece (originally it was going to be a one-shot, but started getting a bit too long). I've sneaked a paraphrased 30 Rock quote in there too, just because I thought it sounded like something Felix would say...haha. Thumbs up if you can spot it!**

**For anybody who doesn't know who General Lockload is, he is mentioned in the art book as one of the "missing characters" from the movie - he was Calhoun's boss and was permanently in the sick bay cased in a full-body cast. Credit to my friend Helenna for coming up with the idea of bringing him back and seeing how he plays into Felix and Calhoun's blossoming relationship!**

**Anyway - hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**The Return of General Lockload**

**A _Wreck-It Ralph_ Fanfiction**

* * *

It was late evening in _Hero's Duty_, and Felix was having considerable trouble with the idea that his girlfriend would cease to exist for the next twenty-four hours.

"And you're _sure_ it won't hurt?" It was the tenth time he had asked the question and despite this he sounded no less certain. Sergeant Calhoun rolled her eyes and continued to pack away her belongings.

"I told you, short-stack. It's protocol. They line us up for a patch; we need to make sure we're prepared." She shut the container with a firm _clunk_. "And no," she smiled, "it won't hurt." Had she been in one of her crueller moods she might have played with him a little, but she could tell by the pained look of anxiety plastered upon his face that it would only make matters worse. "Just think of it as me going on a mission. I'll be back before you know it."

Felix took off his cap and ringed it timidly between his hands. "I have to admit I just don't understand these _patches_, ma'am. Ralph and I have been going for over thirty years now and we're doing just fine and dandy, if you don't mind me saying so."

Although she rarely acknowledged it, Calhoun admired the enthusiasm Felix had for his job. The world of _Fix-It Felix, Jr._ barely had a story to speak of. There were heroes and there were villains, but at its core it was rather like the handyman himself: straightforward, modest and unassuming. Felix had been fixing that apartment building since the day Litwak's doors opened, and each window pane he repaired only strengthened his zeal.

She leant down and put a hand under his chin. "Times have changed, Fix-It, and right now the kids want more story, more weapons and more explosions. Things aren't as simple as they used to be."

Felix offered a weak smile. "You know, my pop always used to say that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

Calhoun laughed. "You'd better get out of here," she said, ruffling her fingers through his hair. "I'll meet you at Tapper's, eight PM sharp." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek; with that he was gone, his frantic footsteps and the jingle of his hammer echoing down the ship's corridor. Calhoun sat down on her bed, placed her hands on her forehead and let out an audible groan.

A few short moments later, the door _whooshed_ open.

She sighed. "Felix, I told you to leave." There was no response. Glancing upward, she saw with surprise that standing in the entrance was not the handyman but the imposing figure of her long-time comrade, clad in full combat armour and looking down at her with a very serious expression. "Oh. Good evening, Kohut."

"Patch intel's in," said the marine, his tone as stern as his appearance. "Seems like Lockload's coming out of retirement."

"That old goon?" Calhoun eyed him carefully. "How substantiated are the reports?"

"Pretty substantiated," Kohut shrugged. "A couple of the boys heard Litwak talking to an engineer a few hours ago – said he came to make sure everything was in order. Then that green plumber – you know, the one who's always trying to be as big as his brother – sees him bring in the manual. We've got plot info, concept art, the works." A hint of a smile crept onto his face. "Looks like you won't be top dog anymore, Sarge."

Calhoun fell back onto her pillow. "I can handle him," she said. She paused for a moment before adding, "They didn't say anything else, did they?"

"No ma'am."

She breathed a sigh of relief. It was commonly accepted amongst the arcade's inhabitants that they had very little control over their fate - that they could be unplugged at any moment without the slightest hint of a warning. But for the newer games, the patch cycle brought with it another layer of uncertainty. With each patch the characters' memories were slightly altered to accommodate the new content. To Calhoun it felt intrusive, almost uncomfortable, as if a cy-bug were burrowing into her mind and planting its insidious eggs.

She shuddered at the thought. "Tell the troops to run a final perimeter check and prepare for downtime. I want this whole place locked down before the bugs start getting riled."

Kohut nodded. "See you on the other side," he said, giving her a quick salute.

As she lay in the relative darkness waiting for the switch-off her thoughts turned to the man she had last seen in a pre-assigned memory: General Lockload, her superior officer, sitting face-forward in a full-body cast. She had never seen him any other way; in her mind he was more mummy than man, forever comically wrapped in plaster in the ship's medical wing. His personality, however, was not so confined; he was strict, forceful and followed protocol to the letter.

She grimaced. As much as she dreaded it, it was time to meet the man behind the mask.

* * *

_Tapper's_ was unusually empty without the soldiers of _Hero's Duty_. It had quickly become their favourite establishment – after all, the selection of drinks on offer far outweighed anything at _Burger Time_ – and it seemed strangely silent without their presence.

"Sheesh, Felix – tough day today, huh? I don't think anybody got past level five." Ralph adjusted the strap of his overalls. It was true; it had been an afternoon with an inordinate amount of early deaths, which Felix usually had the quick reactions to avoid.

"I'm sorry, brother." The handyman scratched his head. "I was a little distracted, that's all."

"Still with the patch, huh?"

"Uh-huh. I don't know about you, but I find this whole business a little, well, preposterous." He refrained from saying what he wanted to – that was, that _Tammy is just about perfect as she is_ – he usually kept the soppy talk to a minimum around his giant-sized companion.

"Well, I don't know," Ralph mused. "The apartment building could do with a new lick of paint – even if it _is_ my job to wreck it."

"Maybe," Felix said absently. He glanced at the clock on the wall for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Eight PM sharp. Jiminy jaminy, she'll be here any moment."

Ralph smiled at him. In all his thirty years he had never seen Felix in love – and now that he had found it, it was clear he would never let it go. There was a new energy to him, a vibrancy that almost launched him out of his 8-bit existence into full, glorious HD.

The clock turned eight, and right on time the set of saloon doors swung open. Felix bounced off his seat with relief as Sergeant Calhoun strode into the room. It was then that he noticed that she was not alone, but accompanied by four soldiers.

He counted them off one by one. There was her right-hand man Kohut, and beside him the familiar figures of Collins and the forever shell-shocked Markowski. The fourth man was a mystery. Almost as tall as the wrecker himself, he was well-built with broad shoulders and a pronounced jawline. His hair was cut short and had turned grey with age, and a green military beret sat proudly upon his head. Most noticeable was his walk; he marched with a sense of authority, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on the scent of its quarry.

"Fix-It, Wreck-It," Calhoun nodded in acknowledgement– _unusually formal_, Felix thought – "I'd like you to meet General Lockload."

Felix held out his gloved hand, which to his embarrassment barely reached above the man's knee. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," he said meekly, flashing him an awkward grin. The general peered down at him and wrinkled his nose. Only then did Felix realise just how large he was; from the tip of his cap to the toes of his boots, his entire body was covered by his looming shadow. A long moment passed before Ralph broke the silence.

"So, uh, why haven't we seen you around here before, general?"

Lockload prised his eyes away from the handyman with what seemed to be a great deal of effort. "Been out of action for six months, civilian - wounded on the front line in the course of duty. If you hear anybody say that generals sit safely in their tents sipping tea, well not me; I prefer to be in the thick of the action, to smell the blood in the air. Still, if it hadn't been for the sergeant here, the entire mission would have been a failure." He shot Felix another sharp glare. "So tell me, what is it you boys do?"

"I wreck things," said Ralph, "and Felix here fixes them."

Lockload grunted. "Sounds rather counter-productive."

"Well sir," Felix began, "it's a little more complicated than that. You see, it's the aim of our game to fix all the windows of an apartment building. When the players reach the top, they win a medal."

Lockload let out a low growl. "The only medals I award are to those brave men and women putting their lives on the line to keep the cy-bug threat at bay." He leant forward and stared Felix in the eyes. "Do you realise what could happen if one of those creatures escaped?"

The pair stayed silent. It was perhaps for the best that the general not hear _that_ story.

"Sir," Calhoun interjected, "these two have been instrumental in the successful integration of our game. They are more than capable." Her voice was resolute and carried some palpable irritation.

Lockload laughed. "You know I respect you, Tamora, but don't be ridiculous. This fellow looks like he could barely hold a gun." He motioned to Felix, who by now had turned a deep shade of red.

"Actually sir, Miss Calhoun has taught me quite a lot about weaponry. In fact, I've visited _Hero's Duty _on more than a few occasions to help with the cy-bugs."

Lockload looked at him, then at the sergeant. Although they had only just met, Felix could sense the man's annoyance. "A word," he said to Calhoun, his voice simmering. He grasped her shoulder and led her out of the saloon doors.

Felix made to go after them, but Ralph held him back. "Easy. Let them go."

If it were not for that one day in the Fungeon, Ralph would have never seen his colleague so furious. Sitting cross-armed on his bar stool, his face was contorted into what he assumed was rage, though with Felix's cartoonish features the effect was more comical than anything.

"Now I don't mean to be rude," Felix huffed, "but I am _irritated_ right now. Who does he think is, talking to people like that?"

"So the guy's a jerk," said Ralph. "Just ignore him. Works for me and Big Gene."

Felix said nothing.

He didn't want to admit that under the anger, buried deep beneath the outward show of his furrowed brow and folded arms was a very different emotion, one of which he was almost ashamed.

_Fear_.

* * *

_Carpentry 101: A Beginner's Guide to Birdsmouths, Cat's Paws and Jack Rafters_. Felix was more than familiar with the book; he had read it hundreds of times. Realistically he didn't need to - not only was the knowledge of the complex terminology written into his code, but his magic golden hammer rendered it useless with one simple touch.

He didn't care. Reading the book gave him a strange sense of comfort, and as he moved his hand over the gilded name of the author he sighed. He traced the letters with his finger, following every dip and curve until the words met their end: Fix-It Felix, Sr.

The wind picked up, its shrill whistle drowning out the creak of the rickety old tram as it pulled into the stop and rattled against the sidings.

"There you are." A familiar voice. "I've been looking all over for you." Felix watched out of the corner of his eye as Sergeant Calhoun stepped out of the carriage and onto the platform. "You had me worried sick, soldier."

Felix didn't look up. "Oh, don't worry about me, ma'am."

She sat down beside him. As she did so a breeze gusted past, brisk and bitterly cold. Calhoun was instantly reminded of the freezing planet of _Hero's Duty_, an environment so harsh that it seemed to mirror the cruel nature of its insect inhabitants. Even through her armour she could feel the chill.

She shivered. "It's cold as fun out here. Why don't we find someplace warmer?"

Even in his short-sleeved work shirt Felix barely seemed to notice the biting wind. He stared down at his boots for a moment, then with some hesitation opened his mouth to speak. The words came out stilted, as if he had trouble forming them and was unsure whether they should be uttered at all. "Why… why doesn't he like me?"

Calhoun sighed. _She'd been afraid of this_. "Don't mind him, Fix-It. He's always been that way."

"But you only met him today."

As strange as it seemed, Felix was right. Before the patch the general was merely a spectre of a memory, a ghost locked away in her mind. Now the ghost had been brought back to life, and for the first time she had finally looked upon him with her own eyes. She shuddered to the core of her code; she knew her programming had been tampered with, and the thought frightened her.

"He's a general, Felix; he's programmed to be a leader. If he finds any sign of weakness in a person, he'll probe it."

They sat silently for a minute before Felix raised his voice. "Does he know about us?"

As much as it pained her, Calhoun could not look him in the eye. "No. I need to let him settle in first. He's like Little Mac in a china shop; a lot of muscle and nowhere to swing it. Believe it or not, his backstory is as tragic as mine. His son was killed in a cy-bug attack two years ago. His crewmates lied about it; said he was out there alone. The cowards didn't want to admit to running away. He's had trouble trusting anybody ever since."

She could tell by the look on the handyman's face that he was disappointed. "I just don't want to lose you."

Calhoun held him close and gave him a gentle squeeze. "That's a negatory, soldier." Although the honey glows ripening on his cheeks were no less cherry-red than usual, Felix shied away a little, almost embarrassed at his admission. It was then that she noticed the tattered book he was carrying. "What's that?"

"Oh, nothin'."

She smiled. "I didn't know your father was a writer."

"Well, you know us Fix-Its - always dabbling in one thing or another." Felix's voice turned wistful, as if deep in reminiscence. "Pop and I, well gosh, we used to do everything together. This one time, we went fishing down by the lake. We caught all kinds of fish: blue fish, red fish…racked up _hundreds_ of points."

As she listened to his story, Calhoun realised grimly that there had been few times in recent memory - at least not since the death of Brad - when she had found time to relax. To tell the truth, she didn't let herself; after what happened to him, after the abject horror she had witnessed, it didn't seem right. And _fishing?_ She didn't say it to Felix, but being stuck on a god-forsaken hellhole of a planet swarming with genetically-modified insects severely hampered the idea. She smirked at the absurdity of it.

"So how long will the general be staying with us?" Felix asked.

"It's not for me to say, short-stack." Calhoun's shoulders fell. "If I had my way I'd send him packing out of the Triad System as soon as I could." She paused for a moment. Something sparked in her then, and she turned to him, a smile in her eyes. "Maybe… maybe you two should spend some together, like you and your dad. You might find you have more in common than you think."

Although he appreciated the effort at peace-making, Felix doubted very much that he and the general shared any mutual interests. From the short time he had spent in his company he seemed a cold man with little patience for anything but strict hard protocol; a far cry from his carefree and jovial nature.

He shrugged and let out a small sigh. "I suppose I could. We Fix-Its _have_ always been about proper manners and showing due respect to those around us."

"Thanks, Felix." She gave him a gentle peck on the cheek.

The handyman felt his face turn positively scarlet. "No problem, ma'am." He shot her a playful wink, "But if you don't mind my brashness, those are some mighty nasty programmers who worked on your game."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi everyone! I finally finished Chapter 2 - sorry this took a little while, I've been working on lots of creative projects recently, a lot of them involving _Wreck-It Ralph_! I was very flattered to get so many reviews on the first chapter; thank you so much for all your support and encouragement, and I really hope you enjoy how it all pans out! Without further ado, here's my author responses!**

**BlackRobin7: Thank you, and sorry for the long(ish) wait! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Spoons and Forks: Thanks :) I am glad he wasn't added to the film too - I think he would have diminished Calhoun's character a bit and he wouldn't really have been necessary! I've seen the reviews you write around here and they are always very long and detailed, so I just want to say thank you on behalf of all the authors for that - I know it makes me feel awesome to see that sort of review! :D**

**Gaby: Thanks, glad to hear you liked the idea! I hope you enjoy the second chapter too - I would love to hear what you think!**

**nessier15: You may be seeing some more fishing action in this chapter! I think I pressure myself to get these done more than anything, so don't worry - hehe!**

**FlynnieG: Well I can't promise a scene _quite_ like that, but I hope you like the way I went about it! I tried to make Calhoun have a little more sass as I think she's not one to be messed with :D Well at least I wouldn't want to mess with her - wouldn't want a whack with her helmet!**

** : Thank you, I can't take full credit for the plot though - I'll pass that onto my friend Helenna who came up with the core idea!**

**Reeves3: Thank you! I do think Felix would say that if it came to it; I'm not sure how the general would handle it though! It was tough to think of the best way to "reveal" things, and I tried to focus more on Calhoun's PoV than Felix's; I hope that reads well for you!**

**atyri: Thank you for your review, and yes I know the picture you mean! There's one where she looks positively shell-shocked talking to him!**

**GreenWithAwesome: Thank you (Darkrai avatar - I love Pokémon too!) It means a lot when you say everyone is in character. That's one of the biggest compliments I can get!**

**CookiesxMilkEXCITEME: Thanks! I must admit I hadn't read the last sentence in that way but I can see why it might be readable like that XD I see it as more of a father-daughter relationship rather than anything romantic, but I think that comes out more in this chapter. I hope you and your friend enjoy!**

**LittleMissPanda84: Thank you very much, and I hope you do enjoy where I go with it! It was tough to do as there were so many ways I could've gone!**

**Shychick: Hehe you get a thumbs up! Kenneth would be proud :) Thank you for your comments about Felix - he has a very particular way of talking so he is difficult to write!**

**MajorNrd: Your review made me giggle! Here's your new chapter, as promised!**

**gaurdianangel411: Thank you, it means a lot that you said you thought the story was well-written! :) I would love to know what you think of this second chapter!**

**Phew! I got there in the end! And here's chapter 2!**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"Oh my Land," Felix gasped to himself. The lake was ten - no, one hundred times bigger than Niceland's, which now felt like little more than a pond. The air rang with the sound of the reeds and rushes as they rustled in the cool breeze, and the sun beat down fervently, a stark contrast to the perpetual night-time of _Fix-It Felix, Jr_. As its warmth fell upon his face, Felix decided that it was a pleasant contrast indeed.

The game was _Bass Fishing_, and Felix had never visited it before. Tucked away in the corner of the arcade, it had relatively few characters to speak of and thus went fairly unnoticed. It took a while to get used to the scale of the place; even _Sugar Rush,_ with its candy forests, chocolate streams and mountain ranges of frozen yoghurt seemed miniscule in comparison. He took in a deep breath and felt the fresh air pour into his lungs.

If he hadn't been sitting in a fishing boat with General Lockload, it might have almost been relaxing.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you for agreeing to come out with me today, sir."

The general grunted in response.

Felix sighed. He had heard of _breaking the ice_, but whatever barrier was between him and the hard-faced man seemed virtually impenetrable. He'd try a question. "So, have you ever been fishing before?"

Lockload didn't look at him. His gaze focused on an unseen point across the water; his eyes seemed empty, devoid of emotion. "There was one planet in the Triad System I will always remember. Beautiful place; had an ocean the likes of which I had never seen." His voice turned dark, and he chewed on his words as if they were heavy in his mouth. "That was before the cy-bugs came. Those god-forsaken insects turned that planet into ruin. An entire ecosystem devastated; thousands of native species wiped out. Now that ocean is nothing but a sickly green stew of toxic death."

Felix had been around Calhoun long enough to know that military folk had a certain way of speaking, which usually consisted of overblown metaphors and melodramatic stories. Against his better judgement he had made a point of teasing her every time she did it, and more often than not this resulted in her trademark icy glare (although if you asked Felix, he'd tell you it was worth it just to see the look of realisation on her face).

"Oh," he muttered. Then cheerily, "Well, this place seems alright. Here, I'll show you how to hold a fishing pole." He got to his feet and began to clamber his way over to the general. The weight was so uneven that the boat rocked precariously as he moved, giving out a frightening creak with every small step.

As he guided him through the motions, Lockload barely listened to what the handyman was saying. His mind was focused on one thing: whoever this man was, Sergeant Calhoun seemed to have taken a shine to him.

As he looked him up and down he didn't understand why; he couldn't be more than four feet tall, and he was almost boyish, with skinny, stumpy legs that seemed barely capable of holding up his comically oversized head. Of course, the past few weeks had been somewhat of a _tour de force_ in absurdity. In place of the bleak, hard-edged world of _Hero's Duty_ – a world, he thought, in which everything made sense – he had suddenly been thrown into what he could only describe as a circus. In the last three days alone he had encountered a whole host of characters: children sporting floating halos, a grotesque green monster with one bulbous, bloodshot eye, and a dinosaur with the rather inexplicable name of Gerald.

But despite all this, the blue-shirted handyman still seemed quite ridiculous.

"...and that's how we catch a fish," Felix concluded.

Lockload snatched the pole away from him. _This can't be too difficult._ He dislodged the chewing tobacco resting against his tongue and spat it out into the water, where it disappeared with a resounding _plop_. "So tell me," he smirked, "how did you and Tamora meet?"

Felix found it strange to hear somebody else refer to Calhoun by her first name; he knew all too well that she would berate most of her soldiers for doing so. When he himself had originally plucked up the courage to ask her name – though he still resorted to _ma'am_ a lot of the time, mostly out of force of habit – it had taken her a little time to warm to it, and he used it sparingly. And _Tammy_? Well, that was a different story altogether.

"Well sir, I gotta tell ya, it wasn't the friendliest first meeting," he laughed. "In fact, I ended up on the barrel end of her gun."

He chose not to mention the honey glows.

Lockload scoffed. "Yeah, most men do."

"I can't blame her. After all, sir, it sounds like she's been through some mighty tough times."

Lockload glanced at him, then back out at the lake. "Brad was a good man and a good soldier. And a doctor too, you know. Damn near finest medical officer on the field."

"I'm sure he was, sir."

On the occasions Calhoun had allowed it, he had looked through the pictures. There were hundreds of them stashed away in a forgotten cabinet in her quarters; photographs of places that never existed, of events that never happened, each holding a memory as real to her as any she would ever know.

She still had a picture of him fastened to the inside of her locker.

But Felix didn't mind. She had loved him, and he had learned in his own little way that love was something you don't soon forget. Plus, he agreed that he was very handsome – _and a mighty fine catch_, he'd added with a smile.

He was distracted from his thoughts when the end of his line began to jiggle. "Oh!" he exclaimed, "I've got a bite!" He stood up, pulled back on the fishing pole and began to reel it in. It was only when the fish was within a few metres of the boat that he realised something was wrong. Whatever he had caught was big – very big – and it began to pull back.

The boat swung forward. This threw Felix off-balance, and seeing the imminent danger the general grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him back into the vessel. With an almighty crash they landed on top of each other; the fishing pole, now almost at breaking point, flew out of Felix's gloved hands and disappeared into the water.

Lockload pushed him aside as the boat steadied itself. "You certainly have a thing for pulling above your weight, don't you," he said with a glare. "That thing could have tipped us over!"

"Sorry, sir, that one was a little too powerful even for me."

The general growled. "Next thing I know you'll be telling me you can't swim."

Felix grinned, abashed. "Oh I can, sir. My pop taught me to swim when – well, I must have been five years old. We used to take dips in the lake _all_ the time." He straightened his cap and drew his knees up to his chin. "Now I've been meaning to ask you something, general. You seem mighty protective over T-" he stopped himself, "miss Calhoun."

Lockload grimaced. "She's like a daughter to me, Fix-It. Always has been. When the recruits from Orion 5 first came to help out with our own special brand of pest control, well, I took Tamora under my wing. And all these months I've been cooped up in the medical bay she's taken on an entire squadron, kept the cy-bugs from devouring everything on that blasted planet. You won't find a better soldier this side of the galaxy."

Felix felt his cheeks turn warm. "No sir. She really is something," he sighed happily.

Lockload narrowed his eyes. There was something in the handyman's voice that held a secret, and secrets were something he did not much like. Whatever was under that foolish smile, whatever was hidden in his words, he would uncover it.

A bloodhound never let its quarry escape.

* * *

"Sergeant, wait."

Calhoun took off her helmet and shook out her hair. "It's closing time, boss. The cy-bugs are in bed." Even after these few long weeks, it still felt strange taking orders again.

"When your superior officer tells you to wait, you wait," barked Lockload. The man, she thought, was a mess; his entire body suit was covered from top to toe in green cy-bug slime. He wiped a huge glob of it away from his face and shook it onto the floor.

Calhoun stifled a sigh and gave him a salute. "Understood. Sorry, sir." It was painfully obvious from her tone of voice that she wasn't sorry at all, but Lockload gracefully ignored it.

"That Fix-It fellow. Now if I didn't know better, I'd say there's something going on between the two of you."

Calhoun said nothing.

"Letting him in here with no proper training," he continued, "putting the lives of our soldiers, the entire mission, at risk... what's going on here? That's not the Tamora I know."

"A lot has changed since we were plugged in, sir."

He came in close now, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, detect the vile stench of dead cy-bug on his skin. "And none for the better, it seems. Look at this place. These soldiers wouldn't know discipline if it smacked them round the head. Isn't it in your programming to keep these boys in line?"

"We are more," she said, "than just our programming." She was seething now, and her fingers twitched instinctively around the holster of her gun - the same way they twitched when she sensed a cy-bug nearby. She meant what she said. Although she knew that each and every one of her soldiers was created with a pre-defined personality, their own faults and foibles, likes and dislikes, they were also in a sense a blank slate. There was no mystery to their existence, no question as to who created them or why. And this grim reality would have been thoroughly miserable had it not been for this ability to grow, to learn, to discover… and to love.

Lockload sensed it too. Something had changed in her; something deep inside her code had been tampered with, rewired. Since when had the duty-driven sergeant become so rebellious?

"I want this place tidied up," he said, slamming his fist against his open palm. "Unlike the other jokers in this arcade, we have a responsibility. You of all people should understand that."

But as he turned his back, Calhoun, a wide smirk on her face, shouted out something that made him freeze.

"What makes you think you know better?"

* * *

To say Lockload was furious was an understatement. In the weeks that followed he took full control of the marines, working them double shifts and following protocol to the letter. _Tapper's_ was virtually empty most nights - most of the soldiers were either on patrol or too exhausted to make their way to the bar, instead settling for an early night's sleep in their quarters.

Calhoun lasted longer than most, but even she was now starting to feel the weight of it. She was unnaturally angry even given her usual disposition, and would snap at the slightest annoyance. Word, as it often did, had spread around the arcade of the general and his unorthodox methods; he however was noticeably absent, spending most of his time cooped up in his ship poring over battle plans and planning the squadron's next move.

Tapper wiped a beer mug clean. "You'd think you were fighting a real war. I always knew you guys took your job seriously, but this is ridiculous."

Although Felix was not the kind to hold grudges, he was dangerously close to being tempted. He could not bear to see Calhoun this way. His game was off; as the ducks slammed into him, as he half-heartedly ate the Nicelanders' delicious pies, it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. The general had barely spoken a word to him since their fishing trip, and what little contact he did have with him was met only with frosty stares and a few heated exchanges.

"I just don't understand," he mumbled. "Why is he doing this?"

Calhoun rested her elbows on the bar and held her head in her hands. "He's insane, that's why. He can't bear the thought of us - of me - being this way."

"But surely he's been in love before."

"Maybe. Who knows, Fix-It. He'd rather be devoured by a cy-bug than talk about it."

"Ma'am, you look darn near exhausted," Felix smiled, taking her hand. "How about we go back to Niceland and I'll cook you up some pie. Why, Mary gave me a bunch of cherries that are just about the ripest I've ever seen. I'll even make the pastry extra sweet, just the way you like it."

She smiled back at him. "Alright, sweetums."

It was at times like this when Felix's homely hospitality was just the cure she needed.

* * *

Ever since Vanellope was able to leave the confines of _Sugar Rush_ she had been fascinated by the outside world. That particular evening Ralph had chosen to satisfy one of her many curiosities, and had taken her to Bad-Anon for the first time. For weeks she had pestered, pleaded and practically begged to go along, and eventually he gave in; besides, he talked about her almost every week, regaling the other bad guys with tales of their adventures, of how this one little crumb-snatcher had changed his life around.

"That was _awesome!_" she exclaimed, leaping out onto the platform in one excitable bound. "Y'know, I used to think you were stinky. But that zombie guy? Pee-_yew!_ Somebody needs to give him a breath mint," she giggled, "or five."

Ralph smiled. "Well he _is_ dead, kid." But Vanellope had already moved onto her next point of focus.

"Can we go to _Tapper's_, Ralph?"

"Woah, slow down there missy; I think you're a bit too young for that." Ralph laughed. "Maybe when you're older."

"_Ralph_," she emphasised the word with great gusto, "I'm a _president_."

"Yeah, and you're nine. 'Four more years?' That's almost half your age!"

"Ah, fudgemuffins." She folded her little arms. "Well, can we at least play some _Pong_?"

"Sure thing." Ralph - and Vanellope, having taken her favourite spot on the man-mountain's shoulder - strode into Game Central Station. It was emptying out now, most characters having retired back to their games. This however only made it a more inviting arena. Although the pong paddles could play independently, they often enjoyed the company of other characters - even if they were somewhat unable to express it. Ralph grabbed hold of a paddle with his huge, paw-like hand and prepared his serve. "You ready, kid?"

Vanellope shot him a determined grin. "Are you kidding? I was _created_ ready."

Ralph swung back and launched the paddle at the crude-looking cuboid representing the ball. With a deafening _boop_ the ball flew backwards, high over Vanellope's head and toward the entrance of _Hero's Duty_.

"Go long!"

"I'm goin' long!" Vanellope scooted backward, her tiny little legs moving a mile a minute. "I've got it, I've-_oof!_"

In the next moment she tripped and tumbled onto the floor, causing her to momentarily glitch and sending the second paddle sliding across the station into a nearby bench (it promptly righted itself and let out a beep of irritation). Getting to her feet, she saw a great dark pillar of a man towering over her, his eyes firm, his expression rigid and unamused. She recognised his armour. It was the same armour Sergeant Calhoun wore: black, battle-scarred, metallic.

"Oh, uh, hey general," said Ralph. He looked at Vanellope, who was dusting herself down. "You okay there little sister?"

"Yeah," said Vanellope, shrugging her hoodie over her shoulders. "Hey Ralphie, who's this doofus?"

Ralph shot her a glare, then looked up at Lockload with a sheepish grin on his face. "Kids," he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "You're out late, sir. Everything alright?"

"Plenty of time to play around, I see," Lockload said, arching his eyebrow. "As it happens, Wreck-It, I'm looking for Sergeant Calhoun. Have you seen her?"

"No sir," said Ralph. "Just came out of Bad-Anon myself. But Felix was talking about taking her back to his place earlier, so I-"

"He _what?!_" The general pushed him aside.

Ralph stumbled backward. "Hey, what's the big deal?"

Lockload didn't look back. He marched away at great pace, his bootsteps heavy and measured against the plastic floor, and as Ralph looked up at the neon sign above the entrance port he saw where he was headed: _Fix-It Felix, Jr. _He winced.

Vanellope hopped up onto his shoulder and nudged against his cheek. "Nice going, Stinkbrain."

* * *

Calhoun spooned a large piece of cherry pie and ice cream into her mouth and let the juice dribble in a red river down her chin. She smiled with pleasure; compared to the ship-issue canteen food on offer in _Hero's Duty_ it was positively delicious. She mopped her face with a napkin and went for another bite.

"How is it?" asked Felix.

"Wonderful as ever, Fix-It."

Felix beamed at her words. If there was one thing he took pride in outside of fixing things, it was his cooking. He cut another slice and lifted it gently onto his plate. The smell of hot fruit and perfectly-baked pastry was mouth-watering.

He was just about to tuck in when he heard a noise from outside the window. It was an odd sound; a high-pitched _whoosh_, as if something were moving at great speed. "Strange," he said. "I wonder what that could be."

Calhoun, rather too large for the Nicelander-sized apartment, pulled open the curtains and peered down toward the game entrance. At first it seemed undisturbed, an almost peaceful scene; the tram sat still in the station, the signal lights winking gently on and off. Then she saw him, almost camouflaged against the moonlit grass: General Lockload, mounted on his cruiser. She drew the curtains shut and slammed her fork against the table.

Felix jumped at the noise. "Sheepers. What is it?"

She swallowed her mouthful of pie and frowned. "We've got company."

"This is it," Lockload said to himself. His mind whizzed through his pre-set bank of metaphors. _The endgame. The final insult. The straw_, he thought,_ that broke the dromedary._ While Calhoun had complained about his orders, she had never outright disobeyed them. It was there on the rota for all to see: night perimeter patrol, twenty-two hundred hours sharp, her name projected in big red letters against the squadron roster.

She hadn't turned up.

He was wholly unsurprised at the look of the place. From the square-edged trees to the pixelated apartment building, the entire game looked preposterous. As he stormed his way up to the entrance of the tower, he realised just how tiny everything was. The door, the handle, the glass-paned windows – they were all Felix-sized. He looked up. One solitary, almost sickening word was carved above the porch: NICELAND. He pushed against the handle but found the door locked shut.

Everything about Calhoun's posture said that he would be bursting through their door any second - she sat tense, her lips pursed into a tight scowl. But the minutes passed without any sign of his arrival, Felix gradually emerged from his hiding spot behind the couch. "You don't suppose he went away, do you?"

"Not a chance. He'll be hunting me down like an old alley cat stalking the ever-wily mouse," said Calhoun. "Wait here, Fix-It. I'll handle him."

"But won't he blow his top?"

"That old pussy-willow?" she laughed. "I'm not afraid of him."

* * *

Calhoun was surprised to go downstairs not to the sound of wanton destruction, but the trickling of a freshly-poured cup of tea.

"I understand you're upset, but that is no need to cause a ruckus in our building. Quite unsightly, I must say." She recognised the prim, proper voice instantly: it was Beatrice, one of the older Nicelanders, a stout little woman who always seemed to dress as if it were a special occasion. "Now sit down and introduce yourself. I don't believe we've been properly acquainted." She slid the cup across the table and hopped onto a seat with an 8-bit _boing_.

Calhoun stayed hidden in the doorway.

"My apologies, ma'am, I – er – I didn't mean to cause any offense."

_Lockload! _She arched around the corner. Sat on an armchair that was far too small, the general was hunched over a table, beret in hands, revealing the ever-growing bald patch he tried so painfully to conceal.

Beatrice laughed. "That's quite alright. Now, may I ask your name?"

She watched as the huge man fumbled with his hat, his words sticking to his tongue like glue. It was strange to see him act so unsure of himself. Eventually he managed to get out a few short sentences: his name was General Lockload, he was from the Marine Corps stationed in the Triad System, and yes, he liked sugar in his tea.

Beatrice peered at him over the rim of her thick-framed glasses. "Your _first_ name, sweetheart."

"Oh," he said. "It's, uh, Reginald."

From the way Lockload would talk it was as if he didn't have a first name. He didn't _need_ a first name. He was defined by his job; he was a general, work-focused and duty-driven. He had no time for pleasantries.

"Oh _my_," Beatrice giggled. "What a charming name. You know, my cousin had a friend named Reginald. Very dashing man. Shame he wasn't programmed, but you know what they say – so many ideas, so little RAM!" She giggled again, the sound ringing like a tiny little bell around the room.

Calhoun wasn't quite sure, but she thought she saw Reginald smile.

* * *

He left three hours later.

Calhoun watched as he strode out of the apartment building, a box of homemade chocolates under his arm. She couldn't help but notice that there was a little less march to his walk (or maybe a little less walk to his march - after all, it was almost impossible to tell). Something about the man seemed lighter, as if some of his tightly-woven code had been gently unravelled.

As he booted up his cruiser she called out toward him. "Aren't you late for your briefing, sir?"

Lockload jumped in surprise. He turned around to find the sergeant leaning against the brickwork, arms folded, a curious smile on her face.

"Tamora," he nodded in acknowledgment. "Would – would you like a ride?" She realised then that the man who had perfected the most piercing of stares could barely look her in the eye.

"Negatory. I'll take the tram tonight. Besides, I have to say goodnight to Felix; he gets a bit squirrely if you just dash off."

"Oh, oh - of course," Lockload stuttered. "Well, I'll see you in the morning." He cleared his throat, "That's zero eight-hundred sharp, sergeant." Although his words were firm there was an uncertainty about them, as if he were not quite convinced himself.

"Zero eight- hundred it is, sir."

As she watched him disappear down the tunnel, she smiled to herself.

_Love really could be found in the strangest of places._

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As always, I would love to hear what you think - it always encourages me to write more!**


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